Chapter Sixteen: ContactSylas sat slumped in the corner nook, watery ale slopping in his mug as he rocked it from side to side. Tollie had flaked out on the table long ago and was now making little gurgling snores. He hadn't even touched the pint he had bought for himself, so Sylas was now drinking it. The frenetic high of the chase from the mansion had long subsided in Sylas as well, and he felt drained and miserable. His chapped thighs had only just stopped bleeding, his back was covered in an angry red rash from the straw and he had an extremely unwelcome clutch of lice from the wig. On top of that, they had ridden nearly thirty miles out of their way whilst looking for this inn in the dark and had arrived just as the innkeeper was bolting the door. Luckily, he had let them in but there
